Shadows and Moonbeams
by Pixieblade
Summary: Happy birthday Gojyo! 58


**Shadows and Moonbeams**

Hakkai/Gojyo/T

AN: Happy Birthday, Gojyo!!

In the years we've been together we've created an unwritten rule about many things: no women in the bed if you expect to ever be able to shut your eyes and not be afraid of me bleaching you with the sheets, Thursday is trash day or you eat instant ramen (the shrimp kind, because nobody really likes the shrimp kind) for a week, shoes go by the door or you're regulated to moping up the mess on your hands and knees, I don't butt into your card games, or your drinking, or remind you what lung cancer looks like on a pack-and-a-half-a-day habit, I don't ask about the overly devoted way you hover over me when I'm sick and you don't ask if you're laying too close in our single bed.

When I think about it, I'm always the one imposing my will and rules and fake order into your life, aren't I? It's not fair to you, I know that. I also know that of all the petty, stupid rules, that there's really only one that we both agree on: we don't talk about our past. It's not like after all this time we don't know about them. I'm actually pretty sure you know more than anyone else and yeah, I'm probably the only one who knows about your brother and mom; taboo topics can bind as well as tear asunder after all.

So it doesn't come as any surprise when of all of us, it's me you glance at as the sun dips behind yet another tree-lined forest on the outskirts of some other nameless town. It's not a long glance, or a deep one. It just shows that of all of us, I'm the one you're expecting something from. Or maybe not. I hope it's the former. I hope after all these years you've come to rely on me even a little bit. At least with something this small.

It takes all evening to get the rest of the group settled in for the night. Sanzo's reading the paper and enjoying a last smoke by the fire, his eyes bruised from lack of sleep and I know it won't be long now before he drifts off. Goku's curled up in his sleeping bag within touching distance to him, and though I know he'd never admit to it, Sanzo sleeps better with him close at hand. It's just Gojyo and I sitting in Jeep, looking up at the stars, smoke wreathing over heads. I'm almost asleep myself, my head propped up on Gojyo's shoulder like a pillow and eyes slowly drooping until I almost forget.

Reaching into my pocket my semi-numb fingers fumble for a bit until I finally get a grip on a small piece of linen I've been holding onto for what feels like forever. I know I'm going to screw this up; I'll probably ruin this whole thing, but I just can't seem to make myself stop…or think of something else. I don't even bother talking, it seems to quiet to break the companionable silence that holds us, so I slip it out as nonchalantly as possible while toying with his fingers sitting on the armrest between us. It's a subconscious act that I don't remember starting, but one of us must have, because neither has pulled away and our fingers are warm where they tangle together in the cool night air.

There's a moment, as I'm lifting them to my lips where he finally turns and looks at me and I almost lose my nerve, but I'm too tired of pretending that I simply smile, soft and sweet and yes, probably a little wistfully, at him and continue until I can brush them, feather soft, the gentlest of caresses, against my lips. He doesn't even blink. It's another moment of silence so quiet it hurts where he just looks at me before his head slips down and our lips slide against each other. So soft. So unbelievably soft it makes me want to cry.

It's not long, not passion filled or hungry or needy or anything as frantic as that, it just is. As our foreheads rest against each other in the night, our breath making little silver puffs in the cool moonlight studded grove I slip my fingers over his and whisper…

"Happy birthday, Gojyo."

He smiles tenderly, eyes soft and glowing, and kisses the single silver ring we each now wear and then he kisses me. This time it is raw and frantic and thrumming with electricity that arches between us like live wires and I can only sigh and moan as we take turns telling every secret we've ever thought of having because there is nothing between us now but moonlight and shadows. And every child knows shadows can't hurt you. Not when you're protected by love.

Not love.

~Fin.


End file.
